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Richie couldn’t take the heat. No one was around to join him, but he biked to the quarry and took his clothes off. He stood on the edge and felt the sun on his face. He jumped in. It felt like forever before he broke the surface and plunged into the cool green depths.
He swam to the path and pulled himself up onto the rocks, climbing up the trail back to the clearing. He was alarmed to find Patrick there, pawing at his clothing.
“Don’t mess with my shit, Hockstetter.” He yelled.
Patrick looked up, grinning and straightening. “Shouldn’t go swimming by yourself.” He said.
“I’m not alone.” Richie said.
“No.” Patrick said with a tilt of his head. “You’re not.”
Patrick was walking towards him. Richie edged along the cliff, until they were back at the jump spot. They both stared down at the water.
“You gonna jump?” Patrick reached up and curled his hand around the back of Richie’s neck, his thumb brushing the skin under his ear tenderly.
Richie half turned to face him. “Don’t push me.” He said.
Patrick laughed. “I’m not going to. Relax.”
Richie grabbed a fistful of Patrick’s shirt, just over his belly button. Patrick sucked in a breath. His eyes glittered. “I’ll take you with me.” Richie warned.
“I won’t.” Patrick insisted. “I’m thinking about jumping, too.” He kept his hand on Richie’s neck.
“You’re still dressed.” Richie pointed out, letting his eyes drop down and come back up to find Patrick staring at him.
“I’ll dry.” He shrugged his bony shoulders.
“Let go first.” Richie said. Patrick loosened his grip, then let his palm slide down Richie’s back. Richie shivered.
While Patrick had his hands off of him, he took the opportunity to step fully away from him and over the edge before anything else could happen up there. The jump was familiar to him now.
He had done it so many times; he knew exactly how long he had before he had to straighten his legs out. He cut into the water like a knife and bobbed to the surface.
Richie had barely swum out of the way of the landing spot when Patrick jumped. He was fully clothed, boots and all, and hit the water like a stone, splashing Richie. He laughed despite himself, shyly treading water as Patrick came up as quickly as he had sunk down.
“Have you ever done that before?” He asked.
“Of course. Like a hundred times.” Patrick bragged. Richie swam closer to him. “Let’s have a breath holding contest.”
He sucked in a deep breath and ducked under the water before Richie could respond. Richie followed. It was dark under the surface, but clear, and the bottom was too far down to touch.
Patrick was trying anyway, his arms fanning determinedly as he swam down. Richie watched him a moment before his lungs started burning and he swam back up. He sucked in great lungfuls of air. It was like he was alone in the quarry once more, but this time the quietness was discomfiting.
After another moment Patrick bubbled to the surface, giggling. “I win.” He said
“Big surprise.” Richie said.
Patrick was very close to him now. He could reach out and touch him. He did; his arm lifted of its own accord, his fingertips finding Patrick’s brow and pushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. Patrick stopped laughing but the amused light didn’t leave his eyes.
They swam out to the bathing rocks. Patrick sat cross legged with half his lap submerged. It didn’t seem strange that he was fully dressed. Rather, Richie felt strangely exposed sitting beside him in his boxers. It wasn’t like being with his friends. It was like Patrick was seeing everything, even the things he wasn’t saying that were written beneath his skin. Thankfully he wasn’t trying to touch him.
“What else do you do out here?” Patrick asked.
“Jump, swim, dry off. Repeat.” Richie shrugged.
“Has anyone ever died here?” Patrick asked abruptly.
“Um.” Richie averted his gaze awkwardly. “I dunno.”
“Nothing to do but jump. Someone must have.”
“Maybe it’s just Paradise.” Richie said, referring to a local nickname for the quarry.
“That means we’re all dead already.” Patrick said, smiling at him. Of course he had to ruin a good time. “I think I’m ready to get out, aren’t you?”
“I guess.” Richie said, studying his face. He turned to slide off the rocks into the water. Patrick grabbed his wrist.
“We should race.” He suggested.
“Why?” Richie demanded, brow furrowed.
Patrick laughed. He was still holding Richie’s wrist. “To see who wins.”
“No shit.” Richie cracked back sarcastically. “What does the winner get?”
Patrick tilted his head thoughtfully. “Whatever they want. One thing.” He pressed his thumb against the little protruding wrist bones. Richie pulled his hand away.
“Maybe I don’t want anything from you.” He said, looking right at Patrick.
Patrick gave him a wink. “You got time to think of something.” Richie felt the tips of his ears get hot.
They swam back. Richie started off in front but Patrick was somehow cutting through the water much faster than before, maybe it was his age or height. He was like a shark. He tried but found himself wading to the surface a hair’s breath behind him.
“Okay, you win, what do you want?” Richie asked as they got out of the water, wanting to get whatever it was over with.
“Hm, I don’t know yet. I’ll have to think of something.” Patrick laughed at the apprehensive look on Richie’s face.
They climbed up the path. Patrick insisted he go first. Richie blushed but relented. Once in the clearing Richie headed directly for the pile of his belongings.
“Wait.” Patrick said. “I know what I want.”
“What?” Richie asked.
“I want to dress you.”
Richie almost laughed. “You what?”
Patrick approached him slowly. “I want to put your clothes back on you.”
“Why in the fuck do you want to do that?” Richie asked, skeptical.
“Funny, I don’t remember saying the winner owed the loser an explanation for what they ask for.” Patrick said, poking Richie in the chest. “I remember saying the winner gets one request, and I remember you agreeing to that.”
“Fine.” Richie crossed his arms and stepped back. “Hurry up.”
“Of course.”
Patrick retrieved his clothing and separated each piece. He started with the jeans, kneeling in front of Richie. Richie watched him suspiciously, but all he did was grab Richie’s ankles and put them in one at a time. Richie reached out instinctively, as if to grab Patrick’s shoulder, but then seemed to think better of it. Patrick grabbed the waistband of the pants and stood, skimming them up Richie’s legs as he rose. Once fully upright he yanked Richie in closer to him, the force of it raising him to his toes and knocking a puff of breath from him. He smiled down at him.
Richie scowled and looked away.
Patrick picked up his shirt and came behind him. He grabbed Richie’s hands and lifted them both straight up. As his hands came down, he purposely dragged his fingers over Richie’s ribcage and brought them around his front. He squeezed Richie between his arms as his fingers found the fly of his jeans and zipped them up, buttoning the button.
Richie still had his arms up, fists clenched. Patrick slipped the shirt on over them and tugged it down, reaching up underneath to adjust the material. His fingertips skimmed Richie’s chest and stomach. He pressed his face into the back of his head and rubbed his nose against his wet curls.
“What the Hell?” Richie complained. “Enough with the weird shit.”
Patrick’s laughter was warm against his ear. He shivered involuntarily. “You can put your hands down now.” Patrick teased.
Richie quickly dropped his hands and stepped away from Patrick, who grabbed his elbow. “Sit.” He said. There was something in his tone, like a warning, that made Richie drop down onto his haunches in the dirt. Patrick crouched in front of him and went so far as to draw each foot into his lap and put socks and sneakers back on. Then he knocked Richie’s legs apart and knelt in between them. Richie fell back on his hands, the gravel and dirt digging into his palms, leaning away. Patrick stuck his glasses on his face. He came into crisp focus. “Better?” He asked.
In point of fact, it was now worse because at least without his glasses Richie couldn’t really see the things on Patrick’s face and now here they were, right in front of him, plain as day radiating from his animal eyes. He fought the urge to close his eyes and turn away.
“Are you done?” He asked hoarsely.
“Looks like it.” Patrick said, one corner of his mouth quirking.
Richie adjusted his glasses reflexively. “Okay then. I gotta go.” He scooted back. Patrick didn’t stop him. “I’ll see ya.”
His heart was pounding even before he reached his bike, but he jumped on and sped away without looking back.